


Conceal, Don't Feel

by rainstripe



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainstripe/pseuds/rainstripe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the conclusion of the movie, focusing mainly on Hans' story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conceal, Don't Feel

Hans stayed on the hard bed, his hands sitting uselessly in his lap as he stared down at the shackles that still encased his hands, almost comically similar to the ones he had closed around a very lonely girl’s wrists. It had taken him several long days to recognize the irony in that, resulting in stale laughter that would echo around his empty cell.

The first few days trapped within the cold walls he stalked around his confines, almost wincing every time the chains dragged across the floor. Eventually that grew too tiresome, far unworthy of the effort it required to see walls that he had already memorized, to stare out of a window to see a world completely unaffected by his confinement.

From his first day back within the Southern Isles, everything outside of the palace moved as if nothing had taken place aside from the ordinary. Even from his cell he could see people going on as they always had before, the market a buzz with activity even while his own life had come to a grinding halt.

Now the days ticked by, not changing from one to the next while the wearing loneliness and the true realization of what had gone on from the moment he’d arrived back in his kingdom was hitting home quite painfully.

* * *

  _The trip over had been torture to be quite simple, long and tedious with an unbelievable amount of glaring from every crewmember who would pass by him. He’d attempted to maintain his pride, or at least to maintain the idea that he still had his pride to everyone else on the ship._

_The moment the ship came to a halt his heart had dropped, the knowledge that now he would have to face not only every one of his older brothers but his father’s judgment as well. Now they dragged him out of his cell, leaving him wincing at the sunlight and growling under his breath about their rude treatment, seeing as he was still a prince, even if not for very much longer._

_Transferring from the more than pleased crew into the hands of his father’s guards was one of the most painful things he had lived through, facing familiar faces and seeing the judgment written upon them was worse than all of those weeks on board the ship._

_Even as they jostled him into the castle, he was considering every possible way to escape from their far beyond firm grasps. Facing an all but absent father would be hell in its simplest form, the collection of all of his brothers, and fortifying their already present beliefs that he was nothing but trash would be far, far worse._

_Unfortunately his original hopes had been that he’d at least be locked in a cell until they could get everyone together, giving him at least a few days before he would have to face his worst fears. Now he was marching into the heart of the castle, into the looming throne room he had only ever once before been allowed to enter._

_He attempted to straighten himself out, struggling to manage any of that with two hands chained in front of himself, jerking them down the moment the large doors swung open and he was forced in front of his family._

_“Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, 13th son of King Theodore the 2nd, has been brought to receive judgment before the King for the crimes attempted against Queen Elsa and the people of Arendale.” The monotone voice rang out from directly right of his father’s throne._

_Hans fought to keep from smirking, clearly even with the wrongs he had committed they were planning to follow the absolute letter of the law when it came to putting his head on a platter. He tried to keep his eyes from dropping to the floor, knowing that the moment he showed weakness it would all be over for whatever pride he still maintained. However the moment his father stood his eyes went to his shoes, suddenly faced with the realization of the horrid condition most of his clothing was in._

_He had been present for a trial much like this before, already prepared for what would go on. The king would give him his sentence, having already decided upon his guilt or innocence before he was brought into the room. Then he would be dragged away, no chance to defend himself or argue against the charges that were brought against him._

_His father’s voice had always been threatening and forceful, commanding the room from wherever he may be. Now it forced his attention, forcing him to set his jaw to keep from showing any fear._

_“The charges brought against Hans have been recognized as true, and has been charged with incarceration, indefinitely. Along with this, he will be stripped of his title and any standing within the ruling family of the Southern Isles.” It was final, the words hitting him one at a time, nearly toppling him as he nearly collapsed onto the guards still surrounding him._

_His father silently sat himself, cuing the guards to take Hans away and out of his sight._

_Suddenly every one of his brothers stood from their seats, the oldest stepping forward, and much to his own fear began to speak._

_“As a whole, the remaining princes of the Southern Isles will be fighting for a more severe punishment for these crimes. The actions of Hans have brought shame to not only our family, but our country as well. Due to this turn of events, we request his sentence be altered from incarceration to death, a much more effective and permanent solution to the wrongs he has committed.”_

_They all sat just as quickly as they had stood, leaving Hans to be dragged rather unceremoniously out of the throne room, still staring back at his smirking older brothers even while the doors swung shut, blocking his view._

* * *

 

Now he was left to rot away, pacing around the room once again and tugging quite uselessly on the chains still binding him. He could only wait until his brothers managed to convince the king to execute him, until the day came that the guards dragged him out of this goddamned cell and forced him to place his neck on the chopping block. His last sight one of his smug brothers’ smiling faces, maybe a few whispered words of how truly useless he had always been, how at least his death could give them entertainment.

He couldn’t help but consider what would have happened to Elsa in this same situation.

For one… she wouldn’t be locked alone in a tower for trying to take someone else’s kingdom, but that was beside the point.

She’d be pacing around the room, trying to escape, fighting to get free so she could live to see another day. Her sister would be on the other side of the door, offering reassurances at a minimum, not fighting to get her condemned like his brothers were.

“Oh Elsa… you lucky, lucky girl.” Hans broke a smile after actually voicing those few words, sighing under his breath before settling down onto the hard bed, short laughter escaping him as he wished there was someone who would want him freed.

His head drooped down; his chin almost pressed against his chest as he struggled to keep that sort of mindset from presenting itself, knowing it would end in nothing but heartache for himself.

Instead he closed his eyes, quietly forcing any emotion away, knowing it wouldn’t do him any sort of good now or anytime soon. It took a few minutes for him to recall what Elsa had been whispering under her breath when she’d been locked away, and now he figured the motto would do him some sort of good in his present situation.

“Conceal… don’t feel. Don’t feel-“ Hans let out a slow sigh before continuing to whisper it to himself, not wanting to feel any of the fear that continued to creep around his mind.

He must have begun to nod off, the words still itching at the back of his throat even as sleep started to pull him down. It was a knock at the door that jerked him back into consciousness, cutting off his quiet chant.

The person knocked once more, small and echoing before slowly pushing the door open.

“You really shouldn’t live by that, really I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”


End file.
